Kind of Inevitable
by LithiumDoll
Summary: Yeah. He did not, in fact, see this coming.
1. Chapter 1

"It's not like you didn't see this coming," Fetch said, and prodded the clusters of fresh bullet holes in Delsin's denim vest. "You had to see this coming. It was kind of inevitable."

Yeah. He did not, in fact, see this coming.

"Sure," he said, and batted her hand away. Usually he liked the neon highlights she added to his designs, but right now he prefered she didn't realize exactly how many holes there were. "Totally."

She dropped next to him onto the ratty green couch - the single piece of real furniture they'd managed to sneak into their squat. It made a splintering sound as she squirmed, trying to find a position that didn't risk tetanus from rogue springs.

"That means he didn't," Eugene said, gingerly sitting on the other end and sounding muffled around a mouthful of cheetos. Or "breakfast" as they'd started calling whatever food they'd managed to scrounge or lift the night before.

See, it turned out that Conduits and normal humans could manage a peaceful co-existence for roughly zero seconds and when, inevitably (according to some smart asses), it all went to hell, the poster boy was the first one fingers (cameras, guns, turrets, freakish fish-based powers, whatever) pointed at.

So should have stayed back in Salmon Bay.

Except that hell would have rained down on the tribe. On Betty. And there were these two losers. Fetch wouldn't leave Seattle, Eugene wouldn't leave Fetch, and Delsin had promised Reggie he had it handled. Seemed like that was the one pinkie swear he should keep.

No other reason.

"I just figured. I don't know." He gave in to Fetch's efforts and allowed himself to be arranged into her pillow. "But, wow, I'm never going to Pike Place again. The cops? Shot me. Military? Shot me. Hey, you know that tiny old lady, hits the place up for her terrifying cat army every evening?"

"Nana … something," Eugene said, more clearly this time. "She gave me a kitten when I was a kid. I gave it to my brother. He called it Ana. For Anaphylaxis. You know. After."

"Shot me," Delsin said, staying determinedly on track. "And the conduits zapped me. And I have squid in places..."

Fetch abruptly stopped outlining the bullet holes in pink, or playing the world's most morbid game of connect the dots - whatever she was doing. "Euw."


	2. Chapter 2

"Stupid-ass, mouth-breathing, motherfuuu-armer." Delsin trailed away into a grumble as Betty's voice gently chided his language in the back of his head. Reggie wasn't around to disapprove of his life choices, so he had an old woman living in his psyche instead. _Awesome_.

Still, he lowered the barely conscious man to the ground rather than slamming him into the concrete. Even took a moment to cushion the head. Honestly, it wasn't even a kindness - the guy's face was already one big bruise, he didn't look like he needed a concussion too.

Five dealers down and groaning, one insultingly badly hidden stash of white powder melting into the alley's rain-filled gutter.

Three more holes in his vest and a pounding headache behind his eyes. Admittedly that was less to do with the fight than a lingering tear gas hangover. Turned out he was functionally invincible to knives, guns - the fun stuff - but pepper spray when vent running? Not so much.

He'd found that out the hard (and more than a little embarrassing) way after accidentally surprising a woman taking a rooftop smoke break. Not the best night ever, but better than it would have been if the DUP had figured it out when they were still a threat.

"Hands where I can see them," demanded a voice from behind him.

Speaking of.

Delsin spun, then grinned with renewed amusement. "You're kidding."

One guy, not in uniform, but … cop. Definitely a cop. Not _actually_ wearing a trenchcoat and fedora, but somehow giving the impression anyway. Alone. Probably just got lucky.

Delsin didn't raise his hands, confident Detective Lucky would recognize him and run.

Detective Lucky didn't run.

"You're new, right?" Delsin ambled closer, still smiling (okay, smirking,) and ignored the gun barrel tracking him at chest height.

The man frowned, already-lined face forming into crags. "Kid, do I look new?"

"You look like Grizzly Adams' older, grizzlier brother."

"Uh huh," Lucky agreed without offense. "You going to make me repeat myself?"

"Right, right." Delsin stopped and held both hands palms out at his sides. Let the smoke curl up around them. "Hands," he said, helpfully. "Where you can see them."

"I knew Reggie," Lucky said, then slowly holstered his gun. "He said you were a smart ass."

Delsin felt embers forming over his knuckles; his fingers curled into fists. "So?"

"So I'm not going to shoot his kid brother and I'm hoping his kid brother won't … " Lucky trailed away, eyeing the darkening plumes of smoke. "Cool down, okay?"

"You knew Reggie? Hey, that's great. Where the hell were you when Augustine threw him into the bay? Get out of here before I turn you into a charcoal smudge."

Lucky shook his head, steady despite the air thickening with ash. "Know how many people died the last couple months?"

Delsin crossed his arms; scowled when he realised how defensive he must look. He was the big bad super-conduit who would never, ever answer to Bannerman. He didn't have to explain himself to anyone, least of all the cops.

"Hey," he started, despite himself. "I tried to-"

"Too many," Lucky interrupted. "But it could have been a hell of a lot worse. I've seen the footage. Heard stories from people you damn near raised from the dead right there in the middle of a fire fight. Besides," he added wryly. "You _smudge_ anyone and I'm pretty sure your brother would climb down off his cloud just to kick your ass."

"Yeah. He would." The fire banked. A little. Delsin took a step closer, eyeing Lucky warily and getting about the same in return. "What do you want? To exchange Christmas cards and pretend the cops haven't been shooting to kill?"

"To bring you in."

"And they say Seattle PD has no sense of humor."

"For a _meeting_ ," Lucky clarified, with the overly patient, level tone that Delsin recognised from any number of authority figures he'd pushed within spitting distance of smacking him upside the head.

"With the mayor and my captain," Lucky went on. "They want to trade on whatever good will you've got left and create a task force. You and your friends help us take down the conduits who aren't playing nice, the humans committing hate crimes. We work together and maybe the rest of the city will catch on."

Delsin laughed with sheer disbelief. "You want me to be a cop. Wait, you want me, _Fetch_ and _Eugene_ to be cops. Is someone filming this?" He looked around. "Am I on Seattle's Funniest Bloodbaths? _Hell_ no."

"Kid-"

"I'm not a kid."

"Yeah, you _are_ ," Lucky growled. "You, Walker, Sims. You're kids. You didn't ask to be conduits - that's on the universe. You didn't ask for the DUP - that's on us. But you keep going and, sooner or later, you'll have blood on your hands or a bullet in your head. That'll be on you."

"Motivational. _Stirring_. And it's the shining optimism I admire the most."

Lucky stared unblinkingly back, flatly unimpressed.

"Reggie told you I was a smart ass," Delsin reminded him.

"He also swore you could do anything you put your mind to. Don't make him a liar."

Superman had Kryptonite; Bannerman - still the worst name ever - had Reggie.

Son of a bitch.

"I'll talk to them," Delsin temporized.

"Do that," Lucky said. "Do it fast. Because you won't like Plan B."


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you anyone that read, hoped it was liked! If more's wanted let me know, otherwise this one's done :)

* * *

Fetch laughed for five minutes straight, which would have been disturbing enough, except Eugene joined in around minute three and that's how Delsin found out he'd been playing house with a couple of of hyenas.

Reg and Betty always warned him about that. Kind of.

When Fetch finally trailed away into hiccoughs, he passed her the too-warm, mostly flat bottle of soda they'd been stretching for days. " _Fuck_ , no," she said, when she could talk again.

Still quietly giggling, Eugene stole the bottle and gulped. "No," he echoed. "No way. That's crazy. And I - I like things the way they are. Here. Together."

Delsin swiped the bottle back. "How's it different from what we do now, except we'd have badges and a paycheck?"

Fetch's mouth dropped. "Wait. You're actually thinking about it."

"Wait. We'd get _paid_?" Eugene's expression turned pensive. "I mean, sure. They'd have to pay us, right? We could … get a place? With power? And food?"

"We'd get _cells_ ," Fetch said, smile gone and every edge sharpening. " _Again._ And twenty-four seven watch dogs. And then, when they were done with us? A pat on the head and a bullet."

Eugene's shoulders hunched at the brittle tone and his head ducked down.

They'd known each other a while now, but Delsin still didn't have a sure way to navigate these particular waters: when Fetch's anger and fear ran _just_ under her skin, neon bright and destructive in ways that had nothing to do with explosives or decorative throw corpses. When Eugene retreated back inside his head and slammed the door so hard it shook bone deep.

No map, but Dela Rowe's baby boy always had moves.

"It's not even like that," he said, slinging an arm around each of their shoulders and pulling them against his sides, ignoring the protests. "And if someone tried, you make them eat it. Teeth first."

Fetch shook his arm away, but the corner of her mouth ticked up into sardonic amusement. "Promise?"

"Sure, I'll hold them, you zap them and Eugene can shove swords in whichever holes seem best. Sound good?"

Eugene struggled back upright, straightening his glasses with a reproachful frown. "Where do we go after it doesn't work out?"

"Maybe it _will_ work out," Delsin said. "Don't know if you've checked us out lately, but we're pretty bad ass. I have a fan club."

"You're definitely an ass," Fetch agreed, without heat.

"Maybe-" Eugene started, then stopped. Gnawed at his lip. "Maybe we can talk to them? If it goes bad, He Who Dwells has so many swords. Like, _so many_ swords."

Delsin clapped him on the back, dislodging the glasses again. "That's the spirit, Eugene!"

"Fine, if you want to buy this bridge, I'll go along just to keep you idiots out of trouble." Fetch began to trace a graphic - but informative and ruthlessly anatomically correct - neon sketch in the air. "But when it turns out they're trying to grab us, I will light them up balls first."

"And there's my best girl."

" _Asshole_."

" _Fan. Club_ ," Delsin repeated "I bet Eugene's a member."

He'd meant to tease, but Eugene's cheeks flared. "I wanted to be supportive," Eugene said defensively.

Delsin didn't bother to hide either his surprise or his glee. "You command both the holy _and_ unholy legions of the heavens, man. Support from you is actual, divine intervention. Card carrying membership isn't required - you're already one of my favorite hyenas."

"They have a members-only posting board," Eugene explained. "I wanted to see what they were saying."

"Which was?" Fetch asked, leaning over Delsin to get closer.

"You're not a member," Eugene said, shaking his head apologetically. "I can't tell you."

"My name is _literally_ on the board." Delsin tried to look sincere, or trustworthy, or whatever it was that would give him a shot. "You can tell me."

"Sorry," Eugene said, not even slightly apologetically.

Fetch dropped her tone a seductive octave. "Tell me and you can be the little spoon."

"Well…" Eugene wavered for three entire seconds before he leaned in to whisper in her ear, just below audibly.

The laughed kicked off again.

"I have wiles too," Delsin grumbled. "Don't make me use them."

-o-

It's a little weird, maybe. This thing they have. It works for them.


End file.
